


It's About Leo (it's always about Leo)

by hpdm4ever, MessiFangirl (hpdm4ever)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: :), Champions League, FC Barcelona, Gen, Juventus, M/M, otherwise just read as friendship, read with slash goggles if you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 17:16:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10701513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/hpdm4ever, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/MessiFangirl
Summary: The reporters clamor to ask Dani what the hardest part of coming back to Barcelona is. They acted excited when he came in, waving and shouting, ‘Remember me, Dani?’ or ‘So good to see you, Dani,’ all buddy-buddy as if they're all the greatest of friends. And now they smile, but it’s fake, clearly for show, baring their teeth while holding up their phones to record his answer. They're out for blood, sharks in suits eagerly waiting for him to dive back into the water (and that's okay because he's used to sharks). None of them have ever liked him, so Dani doesn’t really care. Maybe they think he’s afraid. But if they think that, well, they don’t know him.And if they think he’s going to tell the whole truth, well, theyreallydon’t know him.





	It's About Leo (it's always about Leo)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stillgold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillgold/gifts).



> Um slighly sad. Bittersweet, you might say.
> 
> For stillgold because she helped me when I was stuck.

The reporters clamor to ask Dani what the hardest part of coming back to Barcelona is. They acted excited when he came in, waving and shouting, ‘Remember me, Dani?’ or ‘So good to see you, Dani,’ all buddy-buddy as if they're all the greatest of friends. And now they smile, but it’s fake, clearly for show, baring their teeth while holding up their phones to record his answer. They're out for blood, sharks in suits eagerly waiting for him to dive back into the water ( _and that's okay because he's used to sharks_ ). None of them have ever liked him, so Dani doesn’t really care. Maybe they think he’s afraid. But if they think that, well, they don’t know him.

And if they think he’s going to tell the whole truth, well, they _really_  don’t know him.

It’s too quiet now.

He’s paused too long.

So he settles back in his chair, leaning hard on the right arm, letting it squeak with his weight ( _like he knew it would_ ) and hoping it gets mentioned later in a few articles. He's thrumming, being back, rocking slightly, half-ready to kick his feet up onto the table like he would if it were his coffee table at home. It would be unprofessional though, and he's being professional Dani today so he merely taps his toes against the floor, remembering the many times he’s been in the press room before. He deliberately dodges the question, but he does it calmly and politely, knowing that it'll piss off more than a few of them. Instead, he smiles ( _because fuck the haters_ ) and laughs and fiddles with his big glasses and talks for ages about his old teammates and the joy he felt with them.

Because it’s not hard to go back to Barcelona, in that sense.

He’s always loved Barcelona and its people, and it’s not a hardship to talk about that—to talk about the way the city is always ( _always, always, always_ ) at the back of his mind.

He enjoyed his life here.

People forget that.

They forget that he didn’t really want to leave.

He’s found a new home at Juventus—that much is true ( _and he had to, had to make the best of it because otherwise was the point_ )—but it’ll never be Barcelona. And he’s not sure he’d want it to be, anyways. Juventus is different, and he likes it, likes the way things have gone. The stripes are different colors, but there's still passion and heart there. His team is good, and they'll do good things, and he's glad to be a part of it. He joined Juventus so that he could feel appreciated again, so that he could have a new experience, better himself in a way that he was unable to at Barcelona. He knows that people didn’t quite understand how it all went down, and though he’s talked about it a little, he never quite told the whole story.

It’s wrong.

He never told the public about the way the brass looked him in the eyes. How they told him that he was washed up, worthless, not worthy of wearing the shirt ( _and almost gleeful in the way they didn't want him, spitting on his legacy like he hadn't spent the best years of his life there_ ).

That wasn’t the worst part though.

And that brings him back to the hardest part about his return. People might think it’s seeing Camp Nou or the colors of the team he loves so much. Maybe they think it’s playing against Ney. Granted, that's tough. All of it is tough. And Ney, well, he loves that kid ( _hell, he's not ashamed—pretty much loves him like a brother_ ). And it was never going to be easy to play against that boy, not with how much he loves him.

The problem is, there's just somebody he loves more.

And facing him?

Facing Leo?

( _oh Leo_ )

That was always going to be the hardest part about coming back to Barcelona.

*****

The game goes mostly as Dani expects.

It’s wrong.

All wrong.

Wrong like before, like it was back in Turin, but… wrong times a thousand now that they’re in the Camp Nou. It’s not something he could have ever prepared for ( _and truthfully he’s rattled_ ). He might put up a good front, but it’s all a lie. It’s strange not to be passing to striped blue and red figures, strange not to be passing to Ivan or Masche or Sergi, strange not to be passing to MSN.

Dani tries to focus. He’s against Ney, something he’s had nightmares about, but he mostly holds his own. It’s hard, because Ney’s one of the best in the world, and Dani knows that going in. He knows he has to work harder than ever to contain him. And, aside from a few times where Ney absolutely bamboozles him ( _and shit, maybe he shouldn't be, but he’s so fucking proud_ ), Dani does the job. It involves biting at Ney a little more than he likes, but he knows Ney’s tricks, knows that he isn’t doing anything Ney can’t take.

Barcelona throws everything at Juventus. They're hoping for another amazing comeback. And if they had an ounce of luck, they would probably get it. But as Dani watches Leo ( _oh Leo_ ) shoot over the bar—and not for the first time that night—he realizes that Barcelona's luck has run out.

Yes, Juve is strong. They're a defensive wall that hasn’t been breached in the CL for God-knows-how-many minutes ( _and he's done his part there, sweated blood and tears and worked his ass off_ ), but if Barcelona had an ounce of luck, things would be different.

( _if, if, if_ )

But la remontada was a once in a lifetime feat.

It’s too quiet now.

And Dani may not show it, but he takes no joy in that. He’s a professional, though, and he tries to focus on keeping his mind on the ball. He stays in formation, stays in line. He intercepts when he can, presses when he’s supposed to. His boots remember the grass well and he takes advantage of that. He tried to keep his focus on the game. He doesn’t want to think about who he’s marking, or who he’s tackling ( _and fuck, he knows that was Busi, he knows that was Jordi_ ).

There are moments where he wavers:

When Ney goes down and it’s not a dive.

When Andrés adjusts the armband and catches his eyes.

When Leo goes up for a header and smashes his face into the ground.

( _no, no, no_ )

This time last year, Dani would have been the first person at Leo’s side. He would have gently touched Leo’s face, his hair, his neck—made sure he was lucid and aware of what was going on. He would have made sure Leo was okay, made sure Leo was going to get back up. And then he would have been in the ref’s face, cursing up a storm. And if Ney hadn’t taken out Pjanic ( _fucking idiot_ ), Dani would have been first in line to remind him that they weren’t going to stand for that kind of shit.

Because it was shit.

It was one of the most dangerous kinds of fouls to make—pushing a player off balance once he was already in the air.

But this year, Dani forces himself not to react. He can’t go to Leo, so he goes to Ney instead, tries to hold him back away from the ref. He knows the card is coming, but he just wants to make sure Ney doesn’t get two yellows by talking shit. “Be smart, be smart,” he murmurs, hands clenching in Ney’s jersey, trying to pull him away. “Don’t make it worse,” he pleads, feeling Ney’s heart fluttering beneath his hands. And Ney's furious ( _good boy, Ney_ ), practically frothing, pointing at where Leo's still on the ground.

There’s blood on Leo’s face, and it’s not the first time he’s bled for this team. But his eyes are open. Those dark eyes are staring up at the stars in the sky above Camp Nou, signs of bruising already appearing across his fair skin. He’s only down for a moment before he sits up, the trainer trying to keep him from moving too much too quickly.

Dani looks away, looks at the ref, trying to control himself and keep from screaming that it shouldn’t have happened.

It’s wrong.

It’s all wrong.

*****

Dani goes to the locker room after he's showered and changed.

It's quiet.

Ney's not crying anymore, but his eyes are red and he lets Dani sit next to him. There's space there, space in the corner where there should be a crowd ( _and the brozukas are gone now and it hurts more than it should_ ). "I wasn't prepared," Ney mutters, hands clenching the material of his shorts like he's afraid to let go. "I thought—,” he breaks off, looking down at the floor and scraping his socked foot through a puddle of water that somebody’s probably going to slip on later.

Dani takes a deep breath.

Ney does too.

"Rafa called," Ney murmurs, kicking Dani's leg with his wet foot. "He said your hair looks dumb.” It forces a laugh out of Dani, and Ney smiles then. “But he thinks mine is dumb too, so we can’t go by him.” Since Dani doesn’t move his leg away, Ney continues to leave wet marks all along Dani’s pants. “He’s one to talk, am I right? He’s just mad because his attempts to grow a mustache looked terrible.” He digs his wet toes into the fabric and Dani realizes he’s trying to spell out his name.

Dani laughs again, this time genuinely.

Ney’s quiet after that, eventually his foot stilling. “Not our year,” he murmurs quietly. “Next year, though, it’s our turn.” He says it like he needs it to be true, like he needs to believe it in order to move on. “Okay?” he asks, voice cracking a little as he regains control. He licks his lips, and then he smiles sunnily, giving Dani what he wants to see.

Dani reaches out and palms his cheek, bringing their heads together for a moment. “So many years ahead,” he says to himself, thinking of how young Ney is. Then he looks away, out across the locker room, taking in Geri’s slumped shoulders and the way Marc’s staring blankly at his hands. It’s familiar. And unfamiliar. “Okay,” he agrees out loud, biting his tongue ( _because he doesn’t want to play them next year or ever again, but Ney needs him to say it_ ).

He skims his eyes throughout the room, going from face to face, player to player. He knows them all, still talks to most of them regularly. If somebody sees him looking, they nod in greeting, but that’s really it.

Dani can’t blame them.

Luis comes over a few moments later, not blinking an eye at Dani sitting there like one of them. He’s showered and dressed, but walking stiffly like he might have picked up an injury. He smiles at Dani and takes a seat on Ney’s other side, stretching his legs out in front of him. His hair is still damp, and he rakes a hand through it. A few drops of water spray through the air. “You’re gonna have to talk to him,” he says as he leans against Ney, and Dani can tell that it’s Luis’ way of looking for comfort. “Won’t listen to me, as usual.”

Ney sighs and Dani knows ( _it’s about Leo, it’s always about Leo_ ).

Luis rubs his hamstring, fingers massaging his leg gently. “He wants to drive home,” Luis volunteers, keeping his voice low so as not to draw attention. They all turn to look where Leo’s returned to the room. The gash is taped over, but the swelling around his eye is still very apparent. “I was planning on going with Sofi, but I’m not gonna let him drive. Not when he’s barely able to walk in a straight line.”

( _oh Leo_ )

“I’ll drive him,” Dani says, louder than he means to ( _because he loses it around Leo—he always has_ ).

It’s still too quiet.

*****

Dani regrets so much.

But he never regrets the time he spends with Leo.

Even if Leo doesn’t speak to him on the way home. Leo apparently prefers looking out the window, instead content to watch the traffic and the colored lights as they speed through the streets of Barcelona. His head rests against the glass, maybe liking the way it feels against his bruised eye. He ignores the way Dani turns on the radio to break the silence. It doesn’t seem to matter what song Dani puts on ( _but he remembers when Leo used to sing along_ ).

Truthfully Dani had expected a fight when he’d told Leo he’d drive.

But Leo had just looked at him, really looked at him. He'd given Dani that long, lingering stare—the same one he'd given Dani the day he'd first met him ( _and the same one he'd given Dani the day Dani had revealed he was leaving Barcelona_ ). Then he'd shrugged. He'd hugged Ney and Luis goodbye, spoken quickly to Geri and Andrés, and then he'd gotten into the car without a fuss.

When they get home, Dani half-expects to be told to leave. Yet, still, Leo's silent as they go inside. They kick off their shoes by the door, flick on the lights. Dani hangs his jacket ( _on his empty hook_ ).

Leo walks away, shedding clothing as he goes. This is his routine, losing everything that truly remind him of football and who he is, something he only does when he’s safe at home.

Dani watches, knowing Leo will come back.

And he waits ( _because he's not leaving it like this_ ). He makes tea in the kitchen to keep himself busy, shivering in the chilly air and hoping the wet spots on his leg dry soon. He begins boiling water in a kettle that looks older than him but he knows hasn't been here that long, warming his hands over the burner for a few seconds. After that, he pulls out first one red mug, and then a second, placing them on the counter.

Leo pads back into the kitchen as the kettle starts to shriek, watching wordlessly as Dani begins to steep the teabags. He's wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that are slightly too large ( _and they aren’t his, he’s sure_ ).

Leo’s bare feet peek out from underneath.

Dani tries not to wince at the swollen half of Leo's face ( _but it hurts him to see Leo so battered_ ). "Still take an obscene amount of sugar?" Dani asks, reaching into the cabinet to the right. He pushes aside the smaller canisters and digs in the back until he finds the large one he knows contains sugar. “That’s not healthy, you know.”

"Dani," Leo finally says, his soft, slurry voice sounding pitiful.

( _oh Leo_ )

Dani forgets the tea. His hands are cold, but he doesn't think Leo cares when they come together. "It's alright," Dani says, tucking Leo gently into his arms. "It's alright," he repeats, feeling Leo begin to shake. He's careful ( _oh so careful_ ), letting Leo press his face into his throat, ignoring the scratch of Leo's beard ( _and isn’t that beard silly, his little boy playing at being a grownup_ ).

There aren't any tears.

This isn't like with Ney. That was different, that was sadness and disappointment and adrenaline flooding through his system ( _and it hurt but it'll be a thousand times better tomorrow_ ).

This is more.

"I'm here," Dani whispers, kissing the top of Leo's head. His lips rest on Leo's dark hair as he closes his eyes, wishing he could magically make everything better. Leo's fingers curl into the back of his shirt, keeping them pressed together as they stand in the dimly lit kitchen.

If only things were different.

( _if, if, if_ )

“Dani,” Leo says again, whispers it, and it’s enough.

Dani walks them over to the couch. “Sit with me,” he coaxes, untangling Leo’s fingers from the back of his shirt so that they can sink down together. He takes Leo’s hands and holds them to his chest, against his heart, lets Leo feel how it’s beating ( _and he’s here, he’s still here_ ). “Relax, eh? The game is over.” And Leo is tentative, eye swelling so bad that Dani wonders how much he can see. But he goes where Dani wants, rests his head in Dani’s lap, facing him, and stretches out on the sofa. Dani kicks his feet up on the coffee table ( _because this is home_ ).

It’s too quiet.

Dani flicks on the tv, knowing neither of them will watch it. But they’re not going to talk either, so background noise is what Dani needs.

Leo stares up at him with his bad eye, lashes looking so incredibly long. His hands go back go clinging to Dani’s shirt, and he scoots his face until he can bury it in Dani’s belly. He’s back to taking shuddering breaths, and Dani can feel it through the fabric of his shirt. Eventually, they’ll stop, but Dani knows there isn’t anything he can do until then.

He runs his fingers through Leo’s hair, combing the strands over and over, waiting for Leo’s body to relax. The night will end with Leo fast asleep, head still in Dani’s lap, just as it has ended so many times before. They won’t have talked, won’t have said the things they both should say, but somehow it doesn’t matter.

Dani never regrets the time he spends with Leo.

( _never_ )

**Author's Note:**

> Dani and Leo. Friends or more. Whatever you want to read into it. Xo
> 
> [~Also I'm on tumblr](http://messifangirl.tumblr.com/)


End file.
